Page 84 of The Sounds of Her
“You shouldn’t have had to.”
“Like you said, some people aren’t cut out to be parents.”
“They’re assholes. And the crap they’re pulling on you now. They don’t care, do they?”
“You’re only just getting that?” she laughs.
I roll onto my side so I’m facing her. “No one deserves that, especially not a kid.”
“Your mom left,” she shrugs.
It doesn’t even compare. “I had my dad and my brothers. Dad never let any of us down. He worked his ass off to make sure we were taken care of and had everything we needed. What happened to you is worse than my mom disappearing.”
So much worse.
“I found ways to cope. I worked hard in school and focused on college. Even though mom wanted me to be a lawyer, I was passionate about it without her influence. I nearly didn’t go to law school to spite her but came to my senses. My education and life choices had nothing to do with them, who I am, or what I want out of life. That’s why I never went to work for dad at his firm, all through school mom bragged about me working with dad to her cronies.
“I made something of myself, I have great friends and a great life. I tolerate my parents when they remember they have a daughter, but the rest of the time, I ignore them.”
“Until now,” I sigh heavily.
“I…” she pauses and looks back up at the sky.
She’s quiet for so long, I’m not sure she is going to finish.
“I ran from New York when mom pulled her shit because I didn’t want to be that kid again.”
“Fucking hell, Brooke.”
I sit up and take hold of her arm, pulling her up too. I don’t want her to feel as if she is alone, like she was when she was a kid.
With little effort I shift and lift her, so she is straddling my lap. Brooke doesn’t fight me, but she does lean back, so we’re not up close and personal with one another.
“Tell the truth, why did you bring me here?”
“Because I see it in you too.”
“See what?” I whisper, like I don’t know. It feels like a fist is clenching tight around my lungs.
“That song,” she says. “Hope She’s Numb.”
I glance away. Shit, she’s noticed. I won’t talk about it, I can’t. My jaw clenches as I tense up.
The cool, soft skin of her palm touches my cheek, and she gently turns my head so I’m looking back at her. I’ve never looked at her eyes this close up before, there are gold flecks in the hazel colour on the edges of her pupil. They move back and forth on my eyes, like she is trying to see inside of me.
My hands flex on her hips where I am still holding her. I’m moments from picking her up and moving her off of me, so I can get up and run away from this conversation.
Like she’s been running away from her problems. It doesn’t matter if she wants to help me. We’re not the same. I’ll never outrun this. She can face her parents, tell them to go to hell.
How do I face my demon? I can’t. I’ll never be able to. It will live inside of me until the day I die, no one and nothing can fix it.
“Archer.”
My breathing is erratic, she sees the wildness in my eyes. Her other palm comes up and cups my cheek, so she is holding my head still between her hands.
“It’s okay.”
I don’t trust myself to speak. Her fingers touch my temples, lowering so half of her palm is in my beard. I see no pity in her eyes, and that makes it even harder.